Real. Modern. Quilting

It was a dark and stormy night

I had the opportunity to have a mid-week mini vaca on Tuesday night. Ahead of an approaching snowstorm, I scrambled around and found bed and breakfast lodging so that I could be certain that I would be available to convene my class on Wednesday morning.

The B&B I selected for my nighttime lodging was a huge brick home. The proprietors greeted me kindly when I arrived at about 7:30 pm and they proceeded to give me a mini tour of their mid-1800s home which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

The proprietress graciously showed me the magnificent, large and ornate downstairs rooms, each decorated lavishly in Eastlake style (part of the Victorian era). I was tired from the drive and needed to prepare for class, so I didn’t spend much time chatting before I excused myself and retired to my room for the evening.

That’s when it hit me – in my rush to find lodging ahead of the storm, I forgot something critical: I am sometimes a little afraid of the dark.

My room was at the far corner of the house and there were no other guests at the farm and the owners’ suite was tucked into a nook near the dining room on the opposite end and one floor down in this very large, unfamiliar, ancient home on a dark and stormy night. Uh. Oh.

Gathering my courage after the owners went back downstairs, I explored my room. It contained a lot of lovely antique furniture and a divine, comfy queen-sized bed. The fireplace was no longer functional, but the painted wooden firebox surround boasted a sweet bird stencil.

Sweet and delicate stencil, but only a distraction from the horror below (foreshadowing).

The mantel itself was cleverly decorated with a collection of antique baby shoes. I love it when people decorate with collections.

I tried not to think of the babies who wore these as out for revenge in their shoe-less state.

About here is where things got really scary. In front of the mantel was a standing quilt rack. You won’t believe what I saw. It was truly horrifying. You might want to take a deep breath before reading further….

There was no quilt, only a woven comforter. Oh! The horror!

Frightening.

After my heart stopped beating so hard from the shock, I explored further. The room had a dresser nicely stocked with bottled water and real glass glasses.

Love this marble-topped dresser.

A lovely settee and floor lamp were placed in front of the windows, which created a cozy reading nook, but again, there was no quilt to be found. By the time I realized that another quilt was missing, there was nothing left to do but soldier on, with the bitter taste of fear, loss, and regret in my mouth.

To the left of the bed was a closet door. I opened it eagerly, just like an ingenue in a horror flick who you know is going to die soon — and this time I was really scared.

I forced myself to open this door.

No cozy inviting stack of quilts greeted me, just a fairly odd picture randomly propped up on the closet shelf. No – I did not like this at all!

I think the dog looks scared too.

Is it me, or does it look like someone photo-shopped some random lady’s head onto that little girl’s body? Who was this odd creature and why does the dog look nervous and scared? I shut the door and pulled a chair in front of it. Hey — there was no one around to hear the claw feet dragging across the floor.

The en suite was decorated in period style while affording all the modern amentiies and it provided a backdrop for the appropriately calming and non-threatening gratuitous cat art.

One of a series.

I love that little wind-up birdie!

Finally I settled down to rest. With the help of my Nook, my Iphone, the bedside lamp, and a little airplane-sized bottle of liquid courage, I made it safely through the night.

In the morning when I went down to breakfast I found the lone quilted piece in the entire manse. It was displayed on a small foyer table at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

After a rough night, this soothed my troubled soul.

Breakfast was delicious, but lonely. It was just me and Button the cat in a giant dining room capable feeding 12+ persons.

Button really didn’t want to talk.

There, in my quilt sadness, I discovered a new addiction: gingerbread made with fresh ginger. Yum!

Delightful fresh gingerbread for breakfast and yet again with the woven, not quilted linens!

As I reflected on my fright night over eggs and toast, gingerbread and coffee, it occurred to me that on that dark and stormy night I did not hear one floorboard creak as older homes are wont to do. Hmmm. No quilts, no squeaks. Does this B&B really exist?

Back in my 1980’s home on Wednesday evening, I picked up my bright and cheery, non-threatening spring chicken table runner. I’ve made the quilt sandwich, changed to a new sewing needle, attached the free motion foot, and lowered the feed dogs without a quilting plan. Dear friends, do you have a suggestion on how to begin?

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8 thoughts on “It was a dark and stormy night”

Oh my! What an interesting place to stay! Whew…glad you made it back to the 80’s from your time travel experience. I definitely think quilts would have warmed up the place. I think Button smelled Boots and was a little intimidated. I am now in search of gingerbread recipes with fresh ginger as an ingredient…off to the dark web for another time travel experience.

Oh the horror! A National Heritage house without quilts. Didn’t the owners get the memo?
All the paraphernalia was delightful, I’m so glad you took pics.
I make gingerbread with fresh ginger, only because I read an article in Gourmet magazine years ago where a southern (USA) cook said she always used fresh. I have to say that usually no one but me notices the difference. Sometimes I use the squeeze tube stuff instead of the shaved root. Does that count?

Meg: They have ginger in squeeze tubes? When I make curry, I have a rasp that makes grating the ginger a breeze. Can you believe no quilts? Given the period, don’t you think a Lady Baltimore quilt would have been a given? LOL!